


Le Petit Mort

by maaaaa



Category: The Sentinel (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-15
Updated: 2020-04-15
Packaged: 2021-02-23 05:13:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23672863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maaaaa/pseuds/maaaaa
Summary: Written in January 2007 in response to the prompt "Death".Author's Notes -  From Wikipedia: "The little death is a translation from the French "la petite mort" (Le Petit Mort/Le Petit Morte/La petite morte), a popular reference for a sexual orgasm. The term has generally been interpreted to describe the postorgasmic fainting spell some lovers suffer from. Also it can refer to spiritual release that come with orgasm, or a short period of transendence, an expenditure or spending of life force."
Relationships: Jim Ellison/Blair Sandburg
Kudos: 8





	Le Petit Mort

**Author's Note:**

> Written in January 2007 in response to the prompt "Death".
> 
> Author's Notes - From Wikipedia: "The little death is a translation from the French "la petite mort" (Le Petit Mort/Le Petit Morte/La petite morte), a popular reference for a sexual orgasm. The term has generally been interpreted to describe the postorgasmic fainting spell some lovers suffer from. Also it can refer to spiritual release that come with orgasm, or a short period of transendence, an expenditure or spending of life force."

Jim’s hands close around my throat. Strong fingers glide slowly against my skin, skimming my earlobes, tugging strands of sweat soaked hair. Fingertips cup the base of my skull. His thumbs caress my neck, tracing tendons, muscles, and trachea, circling my Adam’s apple, memorizing the pulse of my blood as it zips through veins and arteries and capillaries. Massaging strokes, deceptively gentle, fuel my desperation. My body twists and lurches into and against his touch. There is no escape; no escape is wanted. His thumbs meet at the base of my throat and press into my windpipe. My hands grip his upper arms and dig into his biceps; my fingernails scrape his flesh. My eyes are closed, scrunched tight. His searing gaze is imprinted blue-black against the inside of my lids, surrounded by kaleidoscopic bursts of light exploding in jerky flashes. Short, hot, heavy breaths buffet my face. Stilted grunts and panted gasps slip past my lips. His body straddles mine, controlling our every move. Our warm slick cocks slide against each other, his deliberate, mine frantic. His thumbs press down firmly, restricting my airflow for a split second, inducing prickly light-headedness. It is too much and not enough and just enough. Our orgasms build, racing through our taut shuddering bodies as we climax in unison.

Jim pulls me to him, allowing me to float awhile in the near transcendent state of my post orgasmic stupor. Then he coaxes me back with sweet whispers, soft kisses and gentle petting. As sensation slowly returns my body responds, snuggling into his warmth and breadth and depth. My heart is already there.


End file.
